Dear Reader,

As the year draws to a close, nightclubs, bars, and cafés across India brace for a surge in festivities and patrons. Yet, the tragic fire at Goa’s ‘Birch by Romeo Lane’ nightclub on 6 December, which claimed 25 lives—largely migrant staff trapped in the kitchen due to blocked exits and inadequate safety measures—has failed to spotlight rampant violations in such venues. Pubs and restaurants in tourist hubs like Goa feature narrow entrances, packed service spaces, and are often illicitly built on fragile salt pans. Migrant workers from distant states, drawn by promises of steady jobs, endure cramped sleeping quarters, gruelling shifts, and relatively low wages.

The Migration Story, in a reflective year-ender, highlights how pubs and restaurants that proliferate in tourist destinations often subvert basic fire and engineering safety norms in not providing adequate emergency exits or wide entry points. The hospitality sector, contributing nearly 7% to India’s GDP and projected to reach $250 billion by 2030, thrives on poor regulation that leaves these workers perilously vulnerable. Many victims succumbed to smoke inhalation in suffocating basements, underscoring the human cost of unchecked proliferation. Stricter enforcement of safety protocols, fair labour practices, and oversight in high-risk tourist zones is essential to avert future tragedies and protect those powering the industry’s festive façade.

Midway through the ongoing Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of electoral rolls, a quiet but far-reaching shift took place. The Election Commission of India’s (ECI) Booth Level Officers were already conducting door-to-door verification under familiar, rule-bound procedures, guided by manuals and written instructions. Then, without formal notice, the ECI pivoted, introducing algorithm-driven processes into the SIR—without publicly notified protocols, manuals, or written guidance.

The Reporters’ Collective finds that for field officials in the 12 states and Union Territories where the SIR is currently underway, the change arrived not as a policy circular but as a digital directive. There was no clarity on how the algorithms functioned, what data they prioritised, or how errors could be identified and corrected. Decisions that once depended on human verification now appear to be shaped by opaque technological filters, leaving officials uncertain about accountability.

As the SIR continues across these states, the impact of this mid-course correction is becoming evident. In the absence of safeguards, algorithmic decisions risk being applied unevenly across districts, producing inconsistent outcomes. Voters flagged or excluded receive little explanation or recourse. For migrants, the poor, and marginalised communities, the danger of silent disenfranchisement grows. By altering its policy without transparency or protections, the ECI has introduced uncertainty into a constitutionally sensitive exercise, weakening trust in the integrity of the ongoing nationwide revision.

In the forested interiors of Chhattisgarh live the Pando, Pahadi Korwa and Birhor—among India’s Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Groups - PVTG, and among its most invisible citizens. Their villages are scattered, their numbers dwindling, and their lives are shaped by a steady loss of land, livelihoods, and autonomy. Cut off from markets and services, many survive on fragile subsistence economies, with limited access to healthcare, schooling, or even formal recognition by the state.

While India prepares for its tryst with destiny to be a ‘developed’ nation in two decades, these communities experience a very different passage of time. मैं भी भारत reports that basic necessities rarely arrive at their doorstep, roads fade into forest tracks, welfare schemes falter in delivery, and institutions meant to protect them remain distant or ineffective. Decisions taken in nation and state capitals are far removed from the realities of lives lived deep within forests, where displacement, malnutrition and cultural erosion are daily concerns.

While the country measures progress in growth rates and the pace of infrastructure creation—for these PVTGs every day is a struggle. Their story exposes a troubling fault line in India’s development journey—one that asks whether national progress can be meaningful when some of its oldest communities are quietly slipping toward erasure.

Srinagar's idyllic gardens and lakes hide a grim reality—the Achan landfill north of the city. Launched in 1985 as a scientific waste site on a migratory bird wetland, it has ballooned into a 123-acre smoking garbage mountain, spewing carcinogenic toxins that ravage nearby communities.

Ground Report finds young children, aged eight and up, skip school due to bronchitis and coughs, tap water flows black or discoloured, and hospitals brim with local patients. Doctors note nearly half of the hundreds of weekly respiratory cases involve kids under 12. Non-biodegradable waste releases fumes, leaches chemicals into groundwater, and deposits heavy metals and causes long-term harm to humans.

For more such stories from the grantees this week, please read on.

Wishing you a very happy and fulfilling New Year—2026

Warmly,

Sunil Rajshekhar
IPSMF